


where shadows once fell, only light remains

by imfallingforyoureyes102



Series: To Build a Home [10]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, Married Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Parent Felicity Smoak, Parent Oliver Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imfallingforyoureyes102/pseuds/imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: Oliver likes to think he’s gotten good at the whole parenting thing.But then Tommy’s climbing out of the tub and streaking down the hallway and Oliver is fairly certain that this happens far too often for him to have been slighted by his two year old again. Tommy's back in Oliver's arms in seconds though, and it takes Oliver climbing into the tub with his son and holding him still under the shower head to get the red dye out of his hair. His dress pants are soaked through and he's pretty sure Tommy is peeing on him but he’s also certain that he’s never felt more content with life than right now in this moment.(Or, Oliver gets the happily ever after he'd so desperately longed for - he experiences it every day in each baby babble he hears, in each dirty diaper he changes, in each midnight dance he shares with his wife under the beam of the refrigerator light. Yet it's in the little moments when he realizes just how lucky he is - when he's hit so hard with the reality of his life that he needs Felicity's soft words and the weight of his children against his chest to pull him back to the surface.)
Relationships: John Diggle/Lyla Michaels, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Roy Harper/Thea Queen
Series: To Build a Home [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752055
Comments: 11
Kudos: 153





	where shadows once fell, only light remains

**Author's Note:**

> Very random! Very not edited! Very sleep deprived, I am! 
> 
> Sorry if this bad boy makes no sense, I just wrote random things and it turned into a million things and then to this. I just wanted to get something out. Sorry if it sucks!
> 
> Love u all!!

If he were to go back in time and answer the question of where he would see himself in five years, Oliver would have sworn on his own beating heart that it would never have been _this_.

Not that he doesn’t want this. He loves this. _This_ is the very reason he finds it easy to spring up from bed every day, the aftershocks of five years in hell still there but dulled.

It’s the twinkling laughter of his son, the slight, shy glances from Felicity, and the way his baby girl grasps his index finger oh so tightly. It’s the chaos of wet and slippery bath-times and the ridiculousness of voices and facial expressions during story time – it’s the teeny tiny flashes of perfection that pepper Oliver’s life that makes it _really_ worth something.

But when _this_ is him and Felicity staring wide eyed and horrified at two baby Queens, not sure if the red, gooey substance dripping off of them with a splat is food dye or _blood_ \- _this_ is something that he never, _ever_ would have imagined.

In a quick lunge, Oliver scoops up his son, holding the dripping two-year-old at arms-length and visibly relaxing when the familiar scent of cake frosting wafts his way.

" _Tommy_."

Though the voice comes out in a low growl, it's all light and gentle, father and son sharing a heated glare as the bigger one scolds the smaller one.

Felicity watches the two with a small grin, and she can't help but imagine that if she had a picture of Oliver at Tommy's age placed next to one of Tommy's now, she would never be able to tell the difference.

The freshly turned two-year-old stares right back at his father and Oliver revels in how easy it is to hold his son straight armed – at how small his little boy is. He glances at his daughter, even smaller and lighter than Tommy, and hopes and prays that they will stay this little forever. But for right now, Oliver turns back to his son, eyebrows raised in question.

"What,” he starts, fighting off a smile as Tommy flashes his baby teeth at him, “are you doing?"

Tommy's short arm reaches up to his father’s face, patting his left cheek with a satisfied grin, and the red frosting that covers his chubby fingers sticks to the slight stubble that shadows Oliver's jawline. The squirming toddler laughs at the prickly feel as he rubs his palm back and forth, and it’s only a matter of seconds before Oliver is catching Tommy’s hand in his large one.

"I think he's trying to make you prettier, Oliver," Felicity quips from the corner as she studies her husband’s now red cheek. "Green’s for sure your color, but that’s definitely a close second. I always like a nice blush."

Tommy nods enthusiastically along with his mother’s words, bringing up his other hand to splatter more frosting on Oliver’s other cheek.

"Wook good, Daddy," Tommy spews out in his adorable baby voice, squeezing his father's cheeks between his two pudgy hands. Neither Oliver nor Felicity can muffle the snorts that rise in both of their chests as Tommy gazes at his father in upmost sincerity.

It’s only when Tommy’s stained hands start reaching for Oliver’s shirt that Felicity jolts into motion.

“Uh uh, baby,” Felicity murmurs, gently tugging her son from Oliver’s arms. “Aunt Thea bought Daddy that shirt, and if we ruin this one like we did his last suit jacket, you and I are _dunzo.”_

Felicity pulls Tommy to her chest, sensible enough to have delayed wearing her dress until after Thea’s birthday cake was finished. She’d had her own fair share of awful experiences in the kitchen _without_ adding two babies to the mix, and she wasn’t about to paint her favorite blue dress with red stained handprints – no matter how cute those handprints may be.

Tommy bats fussily at Felicity, reaching back towards Oliver with a disgruntled huff. Felicity laughs, swinging the diaper-clad toddler around to her other hip as Oliver quickly strips off the expensive button down.

He’s not quick enough, though, and Tommy quickly twists around in Felicity’s arms to face his newest victim, his chubby little palms coming down gently on her cheeks. He rubs the frosting in, carefully avoiding her glasses, and his eyebrows pull together in concentration.

“Mmm,” Felicity starts, her lips pressed together as Tommy smears red dye across her mouth too. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Pwetty” Tommy mumbles. He brings his face in close to his mothers, and Felicity grins as he leaves a wet kiss on the tip of her nose. “Match Daddy now.”

Felicity nods seriously, and Oliver’s smile breaks into a beam as he watches his wife and son interact. Tommy turns sharply.

“Anya’s turn,” he states firmly as he reaches for his sister. Anya’s eyes widen when she hears her name, and the babyish squeals that leave her mouth have Oliver’s chest expanding with so much affection that he has to let out a small laugh.

“I don’t know, Tommy,” Oliver says as she glances down at his baby girl. She’s absolutely _covered_ in powdered sugar, her baby soft hair peppered with sprinkles and frosting.

“Yeah, honey,” Felicity picks up. “I don’t think Anya needs that to make her prettier, do you?

Tommy’s eyes widen as he shakes his head side to side quickly, agreeing earnestly with his mother.

Oliver looks back down at his daughter, and he can't help but agree. The small eyes that gaze up at him with wonder are so familiar – so _his –_ that even though he sees it every day in the mirror, every day in Tommy, he can't help but suck in a breath at the eyes that sit so wonderfully placed on his little girl's face.

Where Tommy is one hundred percent Oliver, from his hair, to his eyes, to the way he stares grumpily at the wall when he's mad – _she_ is all Felicity. A mini, tiny, precious little Felicity that looks so much like her mother all Oliver could do was cry and cry and cry when she was born. He never felt one bit of embarrassment for the way his eyes pooled over or the way he buried his face into Felicity's sweaty neck as his baby girl grabbed his finger for the first time, because the love he felt when his eyes set on hers only further convinced him that he deserved this.

He deserved _them._

"Yeah, she's beautiful all right," Oliver murmurs quietly, all but entranced by his daughter's stare. She bounces in her high chair, chubby arms reaching out towards him, and Oliver’s already crossing the length of the kitchen to pull his sugar covered baby into his arms.

“They need a bath, Oliver,” Felicity remarks as she takes a whiff of Tommy. “God, we all need a bath. You make great frosting, you do. But I feel like Thea would much rather prefer it on a cake and not on, you know, us. Or humans in general. Although, I _do_ remember her mentioning something about frosting and Roy which, now that I think about it - ,”

Felicity presses her lips tightly together as Oliver’s face scrunches up in disgust.

“Right, shutting up now.”

“That would be my preference.”

Memories of red dresses and counting cards and underground casinos flash through Oliver’s mind, and the way Felicity tilts her head and offers him a small smile lets him know it’s hit her too.

It’s the shrill ring of a phone and Roy’s wondering if Thea’s cake is ready and _“Guys seriously, if you’re not here in the next half hour Thea’s going to lock you out”_ that pulls the two from their memories.

“Right,” Oliver says, glancing down at his filthy children. “Bath-time.”

* * *

They try to move quickly – they really do.

Oliver likes to think he’s gotten good at the whole parenting thing.

But then Tommy’s climbing out of the tub and streaking down the hallway and Oliver is fairly certain that this happens far too often for him to have been slighted by his two year old again. Tommy's back in Oliver's arms in seconds though, and it takes Oliver climbing into the tub with his son and holding him under the shower head to get the red dye out of his hair.

Oliver's completely soaked by the time he realizes he still has his dress pants on.

Felicity’s in an out with Anya in what seems like minutes, and Oliver can’t help but stare in flustered awe at how _good_ Felicity is at being a mother. She’s in that blue dress that he loves so much, and Anya has on pale pink shoes and a bright sunflower headband and even though he’s pretty sure Tommy is peeing on him as he scrubs his hair with shampoo, he’s also certain that he’s never felt more content with life than right now in this moment.

It’s a thought that slams into him so hard that he has to take a steadying breath, and for a second all he can think about is the violence, self-hatred, anger, and fear he had felt for _years_ after the island. It’s all consuming and burns him from the inside out, but then he hears the sharp giggle of his little girl, he feels the weight of a disgruntled two year old against his chest, and when he looks up it's his Girl Wednesday – his I.T. girl, his partner, his wife, his _Felicity –_ that’s pulling him back to the surface.

Grounding him.

Just like she’d done from the very beginning.

Just like she’d done every time he woke up from a nightmare or had come home after a bad night out in the field.

She reaches forward and shuts the shower off and lets her hand brush against Oliver’s cheek before gently tugging him out of the shower.

She’s used to these moments, these instances where Oliver doesn’t quite believe that their lives are finally somewhat _normal._ She has them too – wakes up in the middle of the night dreaming of mirakuru soldiers and earthquake machines and the fate of the universe. But then she opens her eyes and it's Oliver fast asleep with Tommy sprawled out on his chest that she sees. It's Anya’s baby chatter filtering in through the baby monitor that reminds her of what is real.

There’s red frosting on cheeks and rubber ducks in the bathtub and spiderman pajama pants in the dryer.

There’s date nights on Fridays and Sarah Diggle’s dance recitals and Thea’s birthday dinner and Roy’s pillow forts and a whole lifetime watching little bums streaking down the hallway during bath-time.

Felicity can see it so clearly – so vividly.

Oliver can too.

He leans in, pressing a firm kiss to Felicity’s forehead as his eyes fall shut, and for a moment it’s just the four of them squished together in the small bathroom. Oliver’s pants are soaked and Tommy’s still stained red from the dye and the steam in the bathroom is not helping the state of Felicity’s hair at all but he’s here and he’s held and he’s _home._

Sure, they’re severely late to Thea’s birthday.

And yeah, the cake ends up half smooshed when Tommy pushes his hands into it.

But there’s also uncoordinated dancing and dirty diapers and birthday candles – there’s laughter and love and _life_ and the reality of it all hits Oliver harder than any arrow or punch ever could.

There was once a world where Oliver could never see past the shadows of his mission – where he could never see through the darkness that he had wrapped around him like a shield.

Now, as he watches Felicity and Tommy giggling across the room – as he sways slowly to the thrum of music with the weight of his sleeping daughter pressed firmly against his chest – he sees no shadows.

Now, there is only light. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews make me happy happy happy! Thanks for reading! Love ya!


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